


Rotund Rustbucket

by Artemis_Dreamer



Series: The Squishy Apocalypse [7]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Aging, Dessert & Sweets, Drabble, Fat Robots, Fluff, Gen, I'm Going to Hell, Not Canon Compliant, Self-Esteem Issues, Team as Family, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 14:38:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10192160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Dreamer/pseuds/Artemis_Dreamer
Summary: Ratchet swore with irritation as he reached into the bowl once again, only to discover that it was now completely empty. The young boy smiled despite himself. The mech's grumpy demeanour could be surprisingly endearing.---In which Ratchet is cynical (as usual) and Raf is concerned (as usual).





	

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This is a work of fetish fiction, involving unhealthy eating and weight gain.
> 
> Don't like, don't read.

Ratchet was hunched dutifully over his workbench when his teammates returned to the base, each bearing their respective human charge. He was currently in the process of repairing a scanning device that had been broken by Bulkhead - as per usual. Some orns, he was tempted to weld the Wrecker's pedes to the floor, if only to keep the mech out of trouble.

He took a piece of liquorice from the bowl on the bench, chewing it slowly in an attempt to calm his temper. 

As the human children dispersed throughout the base, he could feel Raphael's gaze lingering on his frame. Ratchet rolled his optics. Even after all this time, it still seemed to him that their human companions viewed the Cybertronians as curiosities, not as equals – an old, cynical point of view held by an old, cynical mech.

Raphael carefully climbed the ladder that led to the upper surface of Ratchet’s workbench, pausing momentarily on the top step. The young boy gazed up at the medic almost forlornly, allowing the mech to clearly see the worry in his bespectacled eyes. That old cynicism momentarily wavered. 

"Ratchet -" the boy began hesitantly, and then trailed off. He began twice more, each attempt resulting in only an awkward silence. Ratchet took advantage of the silence to enjoy another piece of liquorice. 

"I can't read processors," the medic interjected tartly. "And I don't like guessing. If there's something bothering you, you'll have to tell me."

"I was wondering if you were sick." Raphael admitted, his expression remaining one of concern.

"Sick?" Ratchet echoed incredulously. "I am this team's medic, in case you'd forgotten. I would be the first to know if anymech here was sick - particularly if that mech was me."

The boy hesitated for a moment. "It just looks like you've gained weight. I didn't know Transformers could do that."

It was very true, and very obvious. Ratchet's chassis had increased greatly in girth, bulging and softening into what humans might refer to as a "potbelly." At present, it settled heavily in his lap, compressed slightly by the edge of the workbench. That belly, along with the increasing thickness of his thigh plating and the increasing plumpness of his faceplates, made it blatantly obvious that the medic had gained weight. 

In Raf's opinion, it made the prickly mech seem more approachable, though he wouldn't go so far as to say that it made the mech seem friendly. After all, a round belly and a pleasant layer of pudge did nothing to improve upon the medic's unpleasant attitude.

Ratchet exvented with restrained frustration. Snapping at Raphael would serve no useful purpose - it would be easier and less disruptive of team dynamics to offer an explanation for his condition. He would rather not attempt to justify to Bumblebee why he had made the boy upset.

Besides, there was something oddly reassuring about the fact that at least one member of Team Prime actually cared. He doubted that anyone else, be they mech or human, had even noticed his expanding frame. Unless he was actively saving their plating, his teammates didn't often interact with their medic.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to have another piece of liquorice, just to ensure that his temper remained under control.

Having consumed the treat, Ratchet assumed a dry tone - a tone best reserved for the lecture halls of a medical college - and began his explanation. "Cybertronians can in fact gain weight, though it's true that it’s fairly rare. In most cases, you’d be correct to assume that it's a symptom of illness - it usually shows that a mech's tanks aren't able to process their fuel correctly."

Another long suffering exvent passed his lipplates, and another piece of liquorice was consumed before he continued. He was about to share information with the boy that he hadn't even revealed to the Prime.

"In my case, it's nothing so serious. Do you remember my experiments with synthetic energon?"

The young boy shuddered. He remembered those experiments clearly. Too clearly. For weeks, his worst fear had been that Ratchet would seriously injure himself, or even deactivate himself, as a result of the reckless actions that he took under the influence of that drug. Thankfully, those fears had been largely unfounded.

Losing any member of the Team Prime, whom he had come to regard as an extended family, would be devastating to the young boy. Losing Ratchet, however, would be exponentially worse. Though Rafael was reluctant to admit it, he was deeply fond of the medic, even more so than he was of Bumblebee.

"The Synth-En damaged my metabolic systems," Ratchet explained, "and I don't have the time or the resources to repair them."

"Metabolic... Oh, like metabolism!" Raphael had seemed lost for a moment, but caught on quickly. Ratchet couldn't help the small smile that quirked his lipplates - he was more fond of the boy than he let on, and that was due in no small part to the young human's intelligence. Who else would have been able to fix that stubborn frelling computer network?

"Exactly. My metabolism changed. More accurately, it slowed down. What used to be a normal quantity of fuel is now too much for my systems." He gestured to the bowl of liquorice to illustrate his point, and quickly succumbed to the temptation to take another piece.

"Which explains the weight gain," Raphael smiled with understanding as the information fell into place. It was an incredible relief to know that Ratchet wasn't technically ill. 

The boy noticed that the medic had started on yet another liquorice treat, and couldn't help but ask the logical question, fervently hoping that it wouldn't seem rude. "If the problem is too much fuel, then why don't you eat fewer snacks?" 

The medic snorted with amusement. Of course Raphael, observant little Raphael, would have noticed. "Because it doesn't matter." The medic replied sharply.

Ratchet enjoyed human foods, particularly any form of bite-sized sweet that he could easily consume while he worked. The fact that such snacks now caused him to gain weight was of little consequence, and it was certainly no reason to stop.

The boy seemed confused, so the medic clarified further. "I'm past my prime, if you'll pardon the pun. I haven't contributed in the field in centuries. I belong in the medbay - and in the medbay, being fat doesn't make a bit of difference." The statement itself was flippant, but the medic’s tone hinted at his festering bitterness over being sidelined.

"So you're saying that you don't mind your weight?" Raf was confused, watching as Ratchet popped two more pieces of liquorice into his mouth before returning his attention to the broken scanner. 

"And why should I mind?" The mech challenged, prodding at a few broken component with his screwdriver, and cursing in Cybertronian as they subsequently emitted a shower of sparks.

Raphael didn't answer. In his opinion, Ratchet shouldn't mind. No one should be self-conscious about their appearance, because no one should be bullied for their appearance. Years of being teased by his classmates had taught the boy that judgement based on external factors was invariably poor judgment.

The medic took two more of the delicious little treats, consuming one and offering the other to the human.

Raf accepted it gratefully, taking a small bite as he settled cross-legged beside the broken scanner. To him, the candy tasted bitter, almost unpleasantly so, but he wasn't about to refuse anything that Ratchet gave him. It was an opportunity to strengthen his familial bond with the medic, and he knew how vanishingly rare such opportunities could be.

Peering at the broken components, the young boy realized that there was an additional problem that the medic had failed to notice. "The power circuit is partially disconnected." He supplied helpfully, pointing to the damage in question.

"Ep ep ep." Ratchet tutted, waving a dismissive servo. "I can see that. This isn't the first time I've fixed a scanner, you know."

Raphael smiled understandingly as he noticed the faint traces of embarrassment that had coloured the medic's cheekplates. Ratchet had a certain measure of stubborn pride, and the boy knew better than to be upset by such a dismissal. The mech was grateful for any such assistance, despite his unwillingness to acknowledge it.

A comfortable silence fell over the unlikely pair as Ratchet's work settled into a rhythm. A steady rhythm that alternated smoothly between delicate repairs, grumbled curses, and excessive snacking.

Raf carefully observed every movement of the medic's servos, fascinated by the ability of such large hands to so effectively manipulate such tiny components. Ratchet claimed that he was past his prime, but in the boy's opinion, the medic was no such thing. His specialties may have lain outside the realm of combat, but said specialties were equally important to the success of Team Prime.

Improving the medic's self-esteem would be simple - it was merely a matter of showing appreciation for the vital work that he did, for the intellectual and technical support that he provided.

If the other members of the team wouldn't do it, Raphael would - and he would do it gladly.

Ratchet swore with irritation as he reached into the bowl once again, only to discover that it was now completely empty. The young boy smiled despite himself. The mech's grumpy demeanour could be surprisingly endearing.

Improving the medic's self-esteem would be simple - it was merely a matter of showing appreciation for the vital work that he did.

Raphael was certain that buying the medic a few (dozen) more bags of liquorice candy would be the perfect way to start.

**Author's Note:**

> For the anonymous mloo and the anonymous batformer. 
> 
> It took forever to get Ratchet's personality right. Hope that you like it!
> 
> I'm working on a large number of requests - upcoming works include Starscream, Slag, the Constructicons, Wheeljack and Red Alert. Still, if you have a request and don't mind the wait, I am still accepting new ideas - Animated, G1 or Prime, any mech you'd prefer.
> 
> Any and all feedback is appreciated.


End file.
